


it's not the years; it's the mileage

by onakissgodknows



Category: Enchanted Forest Chronicles - Patricia Wrede
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, F/M, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 08:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17845562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onakissgodknows/pseuds/onakissgodknows
Summary: In which an encounter with a wizard and some heroics by a cat force Morwen and Telemain to confront the feelings they've tried to avoid for years.





	it's not the years; it's the mileage

**Author's Note:**

> I would not normally warn for this but since the target audience of these books are quite young: this fic contains brief violence. If you want or need specifics, skip to the author's note at the bottom and read that before continuing.
> 
> This fic diverges slightly from canon simply because I refuse to believe Cimorene isolated herself from all her friends between Calling on Dragons and Talking to Dragons.
> 
> The title of this fic is shamelessly lifted from Raiders of the Lost Ark.

What had begun as a perfectly lovely afternoon was quickly going downhill for Morwen, Cimorene, and Telemain. Leisurely strolls in the Enchanted Forest were, by nature, hard to come by, but Morwen had thought she understood the safest paths to take. The forest seemed ever determined to prove Morwen wrong, which normally she might almost enjoy, but not when it was being as terribly inconvenient as it was now.

They had met at Morwen’s for lunch, under the pretense of discussing the situation at the castle, but since there were no further developments and likely would not be for many, many years, the day had devolved into the three friends catching up, talking a little magic (as long as Cimorene could stand to listen to Telemain), and Cimorene telling them all about Daystar’s latest exploits (most recently, the precocious boy had captured a frog from the river near their cottage, and had been very disappointed when his mother hadn’t allowed him to keep it).

After lunch Morwen mentioned needing to collect plants from the banks of a stream a short walk away from her home, and Telemain, interested in what she was up to, readily volunteered to help. Cimorene, having left Daystar with a babysitter, had the whole day to herself and was delighted to spend more time with them.

_Well, I’ll bet they both regret that decision now_ , Morwen thought grimly. Where on earth had Scorn gone? The cat had trotted along after them without so much as an invitation, but now she was nowhere to be seen.

The three of them reached the stream safely; it was only when they’d started back home that they had encountered trouble. The forest had shifted – this was not unusual in and of itself, and Morwen was used to seeking out alternate routes when her usual paths temporarily disappeared – but since Mendanbar had vanished the forest had been more unpredictable, and it wasn’t long before Morwen found herself – for lack of a better word – lost.  

Morwen shielded her eyes from the sun, which was dipping lower in the sky, and looked up, trying to get her bearings from the sun’s position. “Well, if I had to get lost with anyone, the Queen of the Enchanted Forest and a magician who spends most of his time traversing this place on his own aren’t the worst to be with,” she said dryly. “If either of you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

Cimorene bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Morwen. It’s been so long since I had to travel in here regularly and even when I did, I was usually with Mendanbar, so – “ She broke off abruptly, and Morwen didn’t push her to continue.

“I could try a Locating Spell,” Telemain said doubtfully. “But given the nature of the Enchanted Forest, it’s unlikely it could pinpoint our location.”

Cimorene frowned. “Having you been living here long enough to make your spells work here?”

Telemain flushed. “A Locating Spell is necessarily different from most of the spells I use. My everyday spells – my Transportation Spells, the spells I use to conceal the location of my home from travelers – don’t require the same level of precision a Locating Spell would. With the focus point constantly shifting – “

“All right,” Morwen said, cutting him off before he gave Cimorene a headache. “We’ll certainly get nowhere snipping at each other.” They had left her house going west, so it only made sense they head east. Morwen turned so her back was to the sun and pointed. “This way,” she said decisively, and started off.

Everything went as smoothly as could be expected until the trees abruptly ended, and a short distance away was what appeared to be a cliff.

“Stop,” Cimorene said, catching Morwen by her billowy sleeve. “Morwen, I don’t like this.”

“Nor do I,” Morwen said, “but we can’t possibly understand where we are if we don’t look.” The forest had tricked Morwen before, and it was always better to understand than not to.

There was about a ten-foot space between where the tree line ended and where the cliff was. Warily, Morwen edged toward it, trying to see over the side as best she could. “It’s not a straight drop-off,” she announced to her companions, “but it’s not one you want to be toppling over, and I don’t think we’d better risk trying to climb. Bother, we’ll have to turn around!”

“That will be easier said than done, I’m afraid,” Telemain said in a resigned voice. With trepidation, Morwen turned around to see what he meant.

A hedge had sprung up just in front of the trees, right where they had been moments before. It wasn’t terribly tall, not nearly as tall as the trees, but it was taller than Morwen, and appeared quite dense. Morwen looked right and left, but the hedge seemed to extend as far as she could see. Again, Scorn crossed her mind – it was unlike the cats to stray far from Morwen when they were out in the forest together, but it seemed likely that Scorn was on the other side of the hedge. She sighed. “I don’t suppose we can get _through_?”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable sticking my arm into the hedge to find out,” Telemain said.

“He’s right,” Cimorene said. “He’s liable to get an arm torn off if he tries that.”

“Perhaps a spell?” Morwen suggested. “To tear or break through the hedge so it can’t hurt us?”

“It might be worth a – oof!”

The other shoe had dropped. The hedge revealed its catch all at once, as vines shot out of it and dragged all three by the wrists and ankles towards it. Morwen felt the wind rush out of her as she hit the ground and the hedge dragged her backwards. It all happened so fast she barely had time to react, then all at once the vines stopped moving, leaving Morwen coughing in a pile on the ground with her friends, all of them with their hands and ankles bound as if they’d been shackled.

“Is everyone all right?” Morwen asked crossly once she’d finished coughing. “And whoever is digging their heel into my ribs, could you please move it?”

Cimorene moved her foot. “I’m sure I’ve been in worse situations,” she said, “but I’m not sure I can think of many.”

Telemain extracted himself with difficulty from underneath the two women and landed flat on his back, hands still bound behind him. “Morwen, I don’t like this hedge.”

“Well, I’m sincerely sorry I led you to it,” Morwen said snappishly. She heaved herself into a sitting position. “Cimorene, you’re tallest, do you think you could try to stand and see _over_ the hedge?”

“I can if Telemain can help boost me up on my feet,” Cimorene answered, rolling onto her back next to Telemain and then sitting up. Leaning on Telemain’s shoulder, she managed to stand up, albeit a little wobbly. She stood on tiptoe, craning her neck, but ultimately sank back down, shaking her head. “It’s too high.”

Morwen and Telemain managed to get to their feet as well. “There are some plants in this forest that are sentient, and a few that listen to reason,” Morwen said. “I’m not sure this one is the type.”

“Oh, it had better listen to reason,” Cimorene said with a steely glint in her eye. “I have had about enough of this. I’m the Queen of the Enchanted Forest, and my son expects me home by dark.”

“ _Son_?” said an unexpected voice. All three whirled around in time to see an unpleasant but familiar figure step out of the shadows. He was dark-haired with a dark beard, and leaned on a staff slightly taller than he was. His bright eyes shined with glee.

“Cimorene,” Antorell said with relish, “I do believe you’ve been keeping secrets from me.”  

“Antorell,” Cimorene said, and it was something between a sigh and a groan.

“I must admit you’ve impressed me,” Antorell said, as if this was somehow surprising. “You’ve hidden yourself, the sword, and a child from me for over two years. Very clever.”

“Once again, Antorell, you’re out of your league,” Cimorene said. “You’re alone, and there are three of us.”

Antorell stroked his beard. “Certainly. But I hope you’ve noticed the precarious position you find yourself in, Princess – “

“ _Queen_.”

“ – with your hands bound thanks to my hedge, you’ll have a hard time using your little melting spell, won’t you!”

“Drat!” Morwen muttered. “Telemain, couldn’t you have made the _pointing_ part optional instead of the _speaking the incantation_ part?”

“I could not, and you are smart enough to know that!” Telemain said, affronted.

“Quiet!” commanded Antorell. “I have the upper hand now, and between the three of you, you will tell me what I want.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Cimorene said.

Antorell’s eyes glinted as he moved forward so he stood between them and the edge of the cliff. “Rest assured, Cimorene, before this day is out you will tell me what I want to know. The hedge certainly isn’t going to let you go, and I do not intend to either – unless, of course, you give me the location of the sword _and_ of the child.”

“I don’t think I will,” Cimorene said decisively. “You’ll have to find another way.”

Antorell tightened his grip on his staff and his face darkened. “I warn you not to underestimate me, Cimorene,” he said dangerously. “Please keep in mind that I only need one of you to tell me where the sword and the boy are.”

“Morwen and Telemain haven’t the faintest idea where the sword or my son are, and if you harm them I won’t say a word!” Cimorene said, just as dangerously as Antorell.

“You’re in no position to be making demands,” Antorell said smoothly. “I wouldn’t try my patience.”

“I don’t believe you have it in you,” Cimorene said.

Antorell laughed coldly. “Thanks to you, I have very little left to lose.”

Telemain snorted derisively. “Cimorene, he isn’t a very good wizard if memory serves. If the hedge is his doing, as he’s suggested, I doubt there’s much he could do.”

“ _Telemain_!” Morwen said, exasperated. “For once in your life, be _quiet_!”

Antorell’s eyes flicked to Telemain. “I remember you,” he said. “You’re that nuisance of a magician who keeps trying to steal our secrets.”

Telemain looked as offended as was possible to look while bound hand and foot by a hedge. “A _nuisance_? A _thief_? That is rich coming from a – a wizard! _You_ are the nuisance, sucking all the magic out of this forest and hiding our king – “

“Do be quiet,” Antorell said, and Telemain’s mouth snapped shut. Morwen had the uncomfortable feeling Telemain hadn’t closed it voluntarily. Antorell produced a small knife from within his robes and strode to Telemain. With the knife, he cut the vines binding Telemain free from the hedge while leaving his wrists and ankles tied, grabbed him by the back of his shirt, and dragged him back to where he’d been standing in front of Cimorene and Morwen.

Morwen’s stomach twisted and her mind raced. There were dozens of spells she’d love to be able to use right now – goodness, she’d love to have her hands free just to _throw_ something – but everything she knew required the use of her hands. If she got out of this she’d certainly be practicing spells she could pull off with a thought rather than an action.

“This is your last chance, Cimorene,” Antorell said, clutching Telemain in his right hand and his staff in the other. “I want the sword, and I want the child. If you care about your friend – “

“Antorell, you wouldn’t dare!” shouted Cimorene, struggling against the hedge. “If you hurt him – “

“I don’t intend to,” Antorell said, and a wicked grin spread across his face. “Not permanently.” With that, he waved his staff, and Telemain screamed, collapsing in a heap.

“No!” Morwen heard her own voice yell, and Cimorene’s shrieked “ _Antorell, I said don’t!_ ”

Telemain writhed on the ground, clearly in intense pain, and Morwen fought against the hedge with all her might because it was all she could do. “Telemain, look at me!” she shouted, making her voice as stern as possible. “ _Look at me!_ ”

Telemain either couldn’t hear her or couldn’t make himself focus on anything but the pain. The one blessing was that he was far enough from the edge of the cliff that he couldn’t thrash his way over.

“What are you doing to him?” Cimorene shouted. “Antorell, _stop_! Let me talk to you!”

Antorell waved his staff again and whatever was happening to Telemain stopped, though he stayed on the ground, curled in a ball and his face white as a sheet.

Cimorene’s face was hard as stone. “Linderwall. My son and the sword are both in Linderwall. We’ve taken up residence in an unobtrusive corner of the kingdom, and my son is at the palace today visiting his grandparents – “ She broke off when she realized Antorell was laughing.

“Do you think so little of me, Cimorene?” he asked. “Linderwall was the first place I looked for you once you were no longer in the forest. Don’t forget, when we first met you told my father and me what kingdom you were from.” He looked down at Telemain, breathing heavily at his feet. “Is seeing him in pain not enough to sway you?”

“Antorell, she’s not going to tell you where her child is!” Morwen snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous and use your brain for once!”

“Quiet, witch!” Antorell said. “There will be time yet to deal with you once I’m through with him!” Antorell looked at Cimorene and his face hardened. “If pain isn’t enough, Cimorene, see how you feel when your friend’s life is in your hands.” He waved his staff once again.

Telemain suddenly gasped for breath. He coughed and gasped again. “Morwen, I – “ He couldn’t finish his sentence because he broke into a coughing fit, grabbing at his chest and at his neck, as if something invisible was restricting him – Antorell was trying to suffocate him.

“Antorell, you take that spell off of him this instant!” Morwen demanded. She didn’t know what this damned hedge was made out of, but she’d have to take a sample home. It was the strongest rope she’d ever seen; she had been fighting to free herself harder than she’d ever fought anything, and it didn’t seem like she’d made any progress.

“That’s up to Cimorene,” Antorell said smugly. He obviously thought he had them – and as far as Morwen could see, he did.

“I am not going to let this man die at your hand!” Morwen shouted. “It isn’t – it isn’t _dignified_!”

Telemain was turning blue in the face.

“Enough, Antorell!” Cimorene said. “As long as I’ve known you, you haven’t been a killer!”

Telemain’s struggles were weakening; he was losing consciousness.

“Did I not kill King Tokaz?” snapped Antorell. “Have I not tried to kill you enough times for you to understand – “

Out of nowhere, a small calico _something_ hurled itself right at Antorell’s head, yowling as loud as it could.

“Scorn!” Morwen said with relief, both at the timing of the cat’s appearance and at the fact that she had appeared at all; Morwen had feared she’d been lost.

“Beast!” shouted Antorell, dropping his staff and trying to pull the cat off of him. Telemain suddenly began gasping again, taking huge gulps of air; Antorell had mercifully lost enough concentration that the spell was gone. Scorn dug her claws into Antorell’s face.

“Get away, you mongrel!” Antorell cried in a muffled voice.

“Morwen, what do you want me to do with him?” Scorn said.

“Claw his eyes out,” Morwen said savagely. “Then come get these dratted vines off me and Cimorene!”

“Got it,” Scorn said happily, and clawed vigorously at the wizard’s face before leaping off him. Antorell collapsed to his knees, clutching his face, while Scorn bounded to Morwen and went to work on the vines.

“I didn’t get his eyes out,” Scorn said, clawing and chewing at the vines, “but I clawed him up good and you two looked like you needed my help.”

“We certainly do, and thank you, Scorn.” Morwen finally wiggled her hands free with Scorn’s help. “I’ll get my feet. Help Cimorene now.” She shook out her wrists – her hands were a little numb – and pointed at Antorell. “You awful, disgusting, toad of a wizard! Argelfraster. Argelfraster, and don’t you even think about coming back!”

Antorell wailed as he began to melt. “Cimorene, this isn’t over! I will be back and I’ll find you, and your son, and I’ll destroy the magician and the witch and that little furball on my way! You’ll all be – “

“Yes, we’ll all be sorry, we’ve heard it all before,” Cimorene snarled as she untied the vines from her feet and then raced over to Telemain. She quickly spent a moment undoing the vines that bound his hands and feet and when she was done she threw her arms around his neck. “Telemain, I’m sorry – I’m so, so sorry – “

“You needn’t be,” Telemain said, patting her back uncertainly and looking a little dazed. “As a resident of the Enchanted Forest, it’s my duty to protect the royal family – I don’t know that Mendanbar would forgive me if his wife gave up his son’s location on my behalf – I’d sooner see myself dead than you or Daystar end up in the wizards’ clutches.”

“But it should never come to that!” Cimorene said firmly, impatiently wiping a tear from her face. “I put you in this danger, and I’m sorry – to both of you. Morwen – “ Cimorene reached up and grabbed Morwen’s hand as she approached, pulling Morwen to her knees next to her and Telemain, “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell Antorell where Daystar is. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s no one’s fault but Antorell’s,” Morwen said, “and that man ought to hope against hope he never encounters me again, or he will be very, very sorry.”

Telemain managed to smile at her. “If I were him,” he said, “I’d stay far away from you.”

Morwen fixed her gaze on Telemain. “Are you all right?” She could hear that her own voice was uncharacteristically gentle, and hoped Telemain didn’t notice.

“Well,” he said, “I can breathe, and the suffocation was almost better than that first spell. This may shock you, but I do not want to know what that was, or how he accomplished it.”

“Will wonders never cease,” Morwen muttered. She reached for Telemain’s wrist and felt for his pulse; it was strong, if a little fast. Relief washed over her, and some other emotion she couldn’t effectively parse, but for a moment she felt like she might break down and cry. Irritably she pushed the notion aside; tears would do no good, especially if Telemain was essentially fine. “You don’t seem too much worse for the wear,” she said briskly. “You feel like you’re able to breathe? Are you in any pain?”

“No pain, and yes, I can breathe,” Telemain said, peering up at Morwen curiously as if he’d noticed her facial expression change.

Morwen averted her eyes from Telemain’s. “Cimorene, where is Daystar now?”

If Cimorene, too, had noticed anything on Morwen’s face, she had the courtesy to say nothing. “In Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh. He’s visiting his auntie Alianora; they expect me by sunset.”

Morwen looked up at the sky. It wasn’t sunset yet, but…. “I think you had better go to Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh and pick up Daystar early. I’d feel better if you were home safe. I can set up a Transportation Spell to get you there. Telemain, are you up to a little travel?” It wasn’t ideal, but Telemain would have to travel either way, whether home or to Morwen’s or to Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh.

“Yes,” Telemain said, a little too firmly.

Morwen gave him a look. “I want you to go with Cimorene to pick up Daystar and see them safely home, then I want you to come directly back to my place. I won’t be letting you out of my sight for at least a couple of days.”

“Do you think that necessary, Morwen?” Telemain asked.

Morwen looked at him even more sternly. “This isn’t negotiable. See Cimorene and the Prince home, then come back to me. I am going to go to the palace and tell Kazul what’s happened, then go home to wait for you. And Cimorene, if his condition changes even a little, you get me on the magic mirror immediately. I always carry a portable one. Understood?”

Cimorene squeezed her hand. “You have my word.”

“Morwen, I don’t think – “ Telemain began to protest, but Morwen got to her feet and waved her hands, then released the Transportation Spell to send Cimorene and Telemain to Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh. She heaved a sigh, and looked at Scorn.

“That was exceptionally good timing,” she told her, “though you could have been there a few minutes earlier and spared Telemain a lot of pain. How did you find us?”

Scorn shrugged, an unusual motion coming from a cat. “I got a little turned around when the forest shifted, so it took me longer than usual to find you. Luckily, I heard a commotion and smelled wizards – then I heard that magician scream and I found you pretty quick after that.”

Morwen sighed again. “Sometimes I wonder what I would do without you cats. Come on, let’s go talk to Kazul.” She waved her hands, and transported the two of them away from the hedge and the cliff’s edge.

It took them some time to explain to Kazul what had happened, and even longer to calm Kazul down (“It’ll do us no good to go picking a fight with the entire Society of Wizards _now_ , before Daystar is old enough to help!”) but all the same, they finally made it home before Telemain reached Morwen’s.

Morwen didn’t know what to do with herself while she waited. It was sundown now, so Telemain ought to have gotten Cimorene and Daystar home by now. She paced back and forth in her hallway, in front of the absurdly ornate mirror Telemain had given her, while Scorn laid on the windowsill looking for all the world like the cat who ate the canary. If Scorn hadn’t shown up when she did – well – Morwen didn’t want to consider what might have happened.

“The cats don’t even like Telemain,” she muttered to herself, absentmindedly tucking a few flyaway hairs behind her ear. “Telemain knows it too, so….”

“I get what you’re saying,” Scorn said, opening one eye. “You think I only saved Telemain because _you_ like him.” She closed her eye again. “Well, it’s true.”  

“I hope you know what a difficult position that puts me in!” Morwen snapped. She was grateful for Scorn’s actions, but she couldn’t help wishing they’d found a way to save Telemain that didn’t throw Morwen’s personal emotions into such glaring light.

Scorn looked at her through slitted eyes. “A thank you would suffice.”

“I already thanked you, I won’t do it again,” Morwen said.

“Morwen!” Fiddlesticks came darting down the hall. “There’s a magician on the front lawn.”

Morwen sighed. “Finally.” She straightened her robes and hurried after Fiddlesticks, Scorn at her heels.

Telemain was leaning against her porch railing in a way that might indicate a cavalier and careless attitude if his pale face and drooping eyelids didn’t indicate exhaustion. He hurriedly stood up straight when Morwen appeared. “I apologize for my tardiness. When we arrived in Duchy of Toure-on-Marsh and Cimorene explained to her friend what had happened, Princess Alianora graciously offered us dinner and Cimorene thought it was a good idea if I – “

“Cimorene was quite right,” Morwen said with relief. “And thank goodness Alianora has some sense to go with her palace upbringing.” If Telemain had already eaten something, that made things less complicated. “Come inside, please, it’s getting chilly.”

Telemain followed Morwen into her brightly lit kitchen, but stopped just inside and cleared his throat. Morwen turned to look at him, bewildered, but Telemain was looking at Scorn, who was sitting on the counter. “Scorn,” he said hesitantly. “I believe I owe you quite the debt, but I’m not sure I can do much for a cat, so in lieu of that I’d like to say thank you.”

Scorn looked at Morwen. “At least one of you knows your manners.” She turned back to Telemain and awarded him a slow blink. “Tell him he’s quite welcome.”

Morwen relayed the message to Telemain, and Telemain looked pleased – as pleased as he could look while appearing to be on the verge of collapse. Morwen impatiently pulled him into the kitchen and pushed him into a chair. “You look a mess. I shouldn’t have sent you with Cimorene, it was foolish to ask you to transport yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Telemain said stubbornly, which was what he said every time Morwen was sure he wasn’t, and which was starting to happen altogether too often for Morwen’s taste.

“You think that,” Morwen said, checking his pulse and then laying the back of her hand against his forehead, “but you’ve never been hit with spells like what he used on you today, have you?”

“I should say not,” Telemain said. “And I’d prefer if it never happened again.”

“So would I,” Morwen said under her breath. She lowered her hand and looked at Telemain – really looked. The sun had finally completely set, and it was one of those summer nights when the crickets were chirping outside and her kitchen was bathed in a warm yellow light, the kind of night Morwen liked to open up her windows and sit in the quiet awhile. It was the kind of night when even the cats couldn’t find anything to complain about, preferring to enjoy the peace outside in the garden. Everything felt still, and there was a kind of heavy silence that hung over the kitchen, almost tangible. She wished Telemain were here under better circumstances.

Thoughts like that were a little too dangerous. “Cider,” Morwen said faintly.

Telemain brightened. “I’d love some.”

Morwen gave him a quick once-over. “Cider, then bed for you, I think.”

“I’m not tired,” Telemain protested.

“Yes you are, I can see it on your face!” Morwen shot back as she pulled out two bottles of cider and set one in front of Telemain.

“That’s not from today,” Telemain grumbled. “That’s just my age showing.”

Morwen sipped her cider. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re barely older than me, and I certainly don’t look this exhausted all the time, and neither do you.”

Telemain drank his cider, still looking pale and worn, slouching uncharacteristically in his chair. It was possible Telemain didn’t even realize how tired he was; Morwen was beginning to wonder about what kind of lasting side effects Antorell’s spells could have on him. She wanted to ask Telemain what exactly they’d felt like, in hopes of better understanding what was bothering him, but she was loath to make him relive it if he didn’t have to.

“How long do you intend to keep me here?” Telemain asked rather unhappily.

Morwen set her bottle down. “You needn’t act like it’s a prison sentence, and you’re smart enough to understand that you don’t know how your body is going to react to something like this. You’ll be more comfortable here than your tower anyway.” Telemain’s home was built for design rather than comfort and practicality. Here, Morwen could keep an eye on him and had access to nearly any remedy they might need. Besides – “Would you really want to be alone tonight? You’ve been through a lot.”

“I’m always going through something,” Telemain said. “I’ve become accustomed to – “

“You lack any sense of self-preservation, Telemain!” In her mind, it had sounded like she was scolding him, but when she said it out loud it took on a different tone. “Why – _why_ – did you antagonize the wizard? What were you thinking?”

Telemain shrugged uncomfortably. “Admittedly I did not consider the consequences, and I didn’t realize Antorell was quite as serious as he was. However, given the alternatives and the fact that he seemed set on doing harm to one of us, I’m rather glad it was me and not – “ He stopped and flushed a little, and Morwen was at least grateful to see a bit of color in his cheeks. As for what he’d been about to say, Morwen thought she understood, but it might be kinder to ignore it.

_Ignoring it is all you’ve done for years_ , she thought to herself. But how could she address it when it would change everything?

“I’m sorry,” Telemain said.

“Sorry?” Morwen was startled. “What for?”

“For antagonizing the wizard. I did not think things through, and I should have.”

“Hmph.” Morwen snorted, feeling a little more like herself. “I should expect nothing less.”

“No – Morwen, I – “ Telemain tried to stand, but Morwen snapped her fingers and pointed, wordlessly telling him to stay seated. He didn’t need to be moving more than he had to. Instead, Morwen stood and went to lean against the table closer to him. Telemain looked at her hand, seemed to steel himself, and covered it with his. “I don’t like to make you worry about me.”

“Well, what would you expect?” Morwen did not move her hand. “And it’s not your fault what Antorell did, I just wish you cared a little more about staying out of trouble!”

“I could say the same for you and Cimorene,” Telemain said. “Every time I turn around it seems the pair of you are in the middle of _something_.”

“And you jump into it too, because you can’t stop yourself,” Morwen said.

Telemain flushed again. “Once again, as a resident of the Enchanted Forest, I would be remiss if I did not take care to help the Queen whenever she needs – “

“Yes, yes, you’re quite the patriot,” Morwen murmured. “The idea that Cimorene needs _you_ to take care of _her_ is nonsense at best, though.”

“All right, fine, it’s an excuse,” Telemain said crossly. “What do you want me to say? I am her friend, and yours too – at least I think I am.”

Morwen moved her hand so Telemain was no longer touching her. “Of course you are. That’s why I want you to stop getting hurt.”

“I’ll try,” Telemain said sincerely.

“I’d certainly appreciate it.” Morwen stood up straight and busied herself putting away the empty cider bottles. “And this way,” she continued, “you won’t find yourself trapped here like a prisoner while I keep an eye on you.”

“Oh,” Telemain said. “Well. That is – Morwen, I don’t – “

“You’re of course welcome to visit any time,” Morwen said. Suddenly it was very important that she rearrange her mugs immediately, keeping her back to Telemain. “I daresay you don’t come by enough as it is. But the fact is, Telemain, I don’t believe I could bear witnessing much more of what I had to see today.” With a click, she closed her cupboard, turned, and walked briskly across the kitchen. “Come on,” she said to Telemain, who looked more than a little taken aback. “You need to sleep, and I haven’t even had a chance to set up the guest bedroom.”

Telemain stood up so quickly to hurry after her she heard his chair fall. “Morwen – “

Morwen opened her door – the one that led to the backyard, the library, and any number of other places – to reveal a small but comfortable bedroom. She went into the room and dug in the trunk at the foot of the bed for clean linens and a quilt. Her heart, she noticed, was beating harder than normal, and she jumped when Telemain gently put a hand on her shoulder. “Couldn’t….bear it?” Telemain said uncertainly.

Morwen’s one blessing was that this seemed just as difficult for Telemain as it was for her. Inexplicably she thought of Cimorene, and how she must have felt when Mendanbar vanished. What would Cimorene say if she knew how Morwen felt about Telemain, how she refused to say anything even though Telemain was right in front of her and had been for so long?

Cimorene almost certainly knew how Morwen felt. She was perceptive that way.

“Seeing anyone in that kind of pain is an unpleasant experience,” Morwen said sharply. “You must feel so much worse than you’ll tell me.”

“I am….” Telemain hesitated. “I am very sore, and very tired, but – Morwen, look at me. Please.”

Morwen tried to remember if Telemain had ever admitted to his afflictions, and couldn’t recall a time he had. She turned to face him and Telemain placed his hands on her shoulders. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here tonight,” he said. “And I wouldn’t change anything about today if it kept Antorell’s target from being you.”

Morwen burst into tears. Telemain looked shocked. “You idiot!” she said, pounding her fist on his chest and immediately regretting it, since he was already in pain. “You absolute _fool_ – you stubborn ass – “

“I’m sorry?” His expression was practically panicked. Morwen was sure he’d never seen her shed a tear before; she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cried, but _damn him_ for making her like this! She scarcely even knew why she was crying. A few of the cats came poking their heads into the room and Morwen snapped her fingers at them.

“Get out!” she snapped. Fiddlesticks gave her a questioning look but she stomped her foot. “ _Go_!” The cats would never let her live it down if they saw her crying over Telemain, especially since he was essentially fine, if a little battered.

The cats left. Telemain stared at her in shock. “Are you all right?”

It felt like all the stress of the entire day was pouring out of her. “I will be fine,” she said shortly, fishing a handkerchief out of her sleeve even as the tears kept coming. “I simply – can’t believe you – I never want to feel this way again, understand me?” She tried her hardest to sound as stern as she wanted to. She was not sure it took. This was humiliating. “I don’t _care_ how much you care about keeping me out of danger! I am never _in_ danger like you are, you are the one who – “ Telemain suddenly put his hands on her waist and tugged her close, “ – takes unnecessary risks with so little regard for your own well-being – do you have so little regard for anyone who cares for you? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I have only the highest regard for you,” Telemain said gently.

“Then _why_ – “

Telemain kissed her, and Morwen kissed back right away like it was a continuation of her sentence. He tightened his hands on her waist, gently drawing her close, and Morwen put her hands on his face, stroking his beard and pulling him down to meet her lips. She was close enough to feel his heart beating.

Morwen wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. Telemain slid his arms around her waist and they stood like that, holding onto each other, Morwen slightly on tiptoe and Telemain leaning into her.

Telemain cleared his throat. “Morwen,” he said, “you are getting my shirt wet.”

She did not particularly want to let go of him, but she understood how uncomfortable wet clothing was and did not want Telemain to be any more uncomfortable than he already was. She let go and carefully wiped away the last of her tears. “Right,” she said briskly. “I’m sure I have something you can borrow. Let me make up the bed, you need to get to sleep.”

The wardrobe in the guest room was an enchanted one, and it was more than happy to provide a suitable selection of clothing for Telemain to sleep in. Morwen turned her back to make the bed while Telemain changed clothes.

“There,” Morwen said, smoothing the quilt. “You ought to be comfortable.”

Telemain sighed, coming up beside her. “I have to admit a good night’s sleep sounds very good right now.”

“I told you,” Morwen said, too emotionally exhausted to scold. “Sleep as long as you like. I’m down the hall if you need anything.” Telemain would never wake her even if he did; Morwen made a mental note to have the cats watch him.

Telemain took a breath, and once again seemed to brace himself for something. “Morwen,” he said, “would you throw me out of your house if I told you I have wanted to do that for quite some time?”

“Not at all,” Morwen said. Unable to look at him, she fluffed the pillows on the bed. “On the contrary, I’d ask why you hadn’t sooner.”

“Oh,” Telemain said with obvious relief. “Well, the answer to that question is certainly, er, fear of – of a lack of reciprocation.”

“That’s defensible,” Morwen agreed. “I’ll allow it.” She turned to face him. “You shouldn’t fear that, though. It’s reciprocated.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “Now please go to sleep. I’ll feel better to know you’re resting.”

Telemain smiled at her. “If it will make you feel better. Good night, Morwen.”

“Good night.” She left the room and closed the door behind her.

All nine cats were waiting for her. “What,” Aunt Ophelia asked, “was all that about?”

“None of your business, is what it was,” Morwen said crossly. She waded her way through the sea of cats. “I want all of you watching Telemain tonight – take it in shifts if you want, but let me know if I’m needed.”

“How do we know if you’re needed?” asked Fiddlesticks.

“If he’s dying or something, dummy,” said Jasmine.

Trouble yawned. “Isn’t watching him Scorn’s job? She’s the one who saved him. Why should the rest of us have to suffer for it?”

“I’ve done more than my share,” Scorn said. “You can have the first shift, Trouble.”

“But I never – “

Morwen left the cats to argue and went into her bedroom alone. She sat down on her bed, feeling for all the world like she might sleep for ten years. She thought again of Cimorene and what she might say to her next time they spoke – _Cimorene, I think I’m losing my mind – Cimorene, I’ve had a breakdown – Cimorene, how did you know you loved Mendanbar?_

“Well,” she muttered to herself, “if this isn’t love, it’s something quite like it.”

**Author's Note:**

> The scene in question is brief, but Antorell uses the same spell he uses on Daystar in Talking to Dragons (page 225 in my edition) which causes Daystar the worst pain he's ever felt. Antorell then attempts to suffocate the same character, which is no more graphic than in Calling on Dragons when the invisible dusk-blooming chokevine chokes Cimorene. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr, talking writing [here](https://on-a-kiss-god-knows.tumblr.com/) when I don't forget this blog exists, and talking everything else [here](https://swiftjolras.tumblr.com/).


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